


Degrees of Separation

by rallamajoop



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Season 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 05:32:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4992172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rallamajoop/pseuds/rallamajoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a.k.a. The Greatest Post-S2 Epic Sterek AU I Will Never Write. [Posted as a bit of WIP amnesty, unlikely to ever be completed]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Degrees of Separation

**Author's Note:**

> In brief, this pretty much consists of This One Scene (the last one here, if you're wondering) about how Stiles might deal with a newfound attraction to Derek - one that had been floating around in my head throughout most of my time in this fandom, and always been a source of some minor frustration that no-one else seemed to have written for me – plus a couple of thousand words of tangentially-related introductory blather about Stiles' Thoughts On Jackson And Lydia, which were almost entirely hammered out in one long burst of inspiration during one of my many rewatches of S2. I had some thoughts about where this idea hypothetically would have gone, had I ever got that far, which you can find summarised in the end notes. I really don't want to get anyone's hopes up about this ever being continued properly, however. It seemed a shame to waste it by not posting it at all, but this probably belongs somewhere alongside my abandoned Guilty Gear WIPs as for the odds I'll ever get back to finishing it now. (This is also unbetaed and barely edited, just so you're warned.)

So it comes to this, eventually: with a gun to his head and no time to dissemble, Stiles would probably have to admit that he is, on some level, _relieved_ that Jackson made it out of his ordeal alive. Not nearly so relieved as he is that Jackson is no longer a remote-controlled, man-eating, paralytic-venom-spitting were-lizard – and not nearly as relieved as he'd be if Jackson had emerged from his ordeal with, say, a new appreciation of the virtues of patience and humility, but Stiles is not a completely heartless bastard, okay? Scott did have a point: no matter how tempting it might be to read the entire kamina episode as karma at work ( _or_ how hard he might find it to say, "I love you," to his dad once in a while), Jackson did not actually deserve to be turned into a reptilian killing machine, and he didn't technically deserve to die for it either. Stiles may never have liked the guy, but if he hadn't made it – well, Stiles has still known the guy since they were in grade school, and if this means Stiles doesn't have to go to school every day and always notice that place Jackson _isn't_ , he'll call it a win.

The point here is that Stiles is aware that objectively speaking, holding all the stuff the kamina did against Jackson is not really fair. Yeah, Scott had had to remind him kind of a lot of times before it really sunk in – and it's not like Jackson had apologised for that time he paralysed Stiles and left him to watch a guy crushed to death, or that time he had to hold Derek up in the pool for four hours, or for any of a dozen other things that happened because Jackson has issues that going out of his way to get himself bit by an alpha werewolf could _only possibly_ exacerbate but – Stiles does get it. For which matter, it's probably not completely fair to blame Jackson for being the reason Stiles had to face the fact he and Lydia are never going to happen either. Stiles is still kind of working on that one too.

Stiles does not, and will never, get what Lydia sees in the guy. This is a statement of incontrovertible fact. But considering that Lydia has found it in her heart to forgive Jackson for being a douchebag on legs, for dumping her via text message then being a dick about it for weeks, and for getting himself turned into a murdering were-lizard ( _yes_ , not his fault, but it's gotta be a major turn-off, right?) just in time to distract every _other_ friend she had while she was being mind-whammied into raising the evil werewolf that put her in hospital from the dead – given that Lydia has apparently gotten past all that somehow, whether or not Stiles gets it would seem more or less moot. And when their love proves to be the ~ _one thing_ ~ that literally restores whatever tattered shreds of humanity were left in Jackson's soul, there's not much point fighting it. So, Lydia and Jackson are meant to be. Somehow, Stiles had missed this when formulating his five-year-plan. Okay.

He gets that. It's just having to deal with that still kind of sucks.

It's not that Jackson gets to have Lydia and Stiles doesn't – okay, it's not _just_ that he gets Lydia and Stiles doesn't. It's that Stiles always felt like he _knew_ Lydia in a way guys like Jackson always miss. Back up a bit on that one: See, the thing about Lydia – it's not just that she's gorgeous, even if she _is_ five feet of strawberry blonde, green-eyed beauty with a look in her eye that takes no prisoners. It's never been just about how smart she is either, though Stiles has known about _that_ ever since third grade, when he saw her take on the teacher who'd marked her wrong on a test question she'd got right (and not just because _Stiles_ had got it right too). What gets Stiles – what's _got_ him every day from that day forward – is how everyone else doesn't seem to notice. Lydia isn't ashamed of her brains, and she doesn't pretend to be vapid and dumb because she wants to be – she does it because she thinks she has to. And once Stiles started noticing, he never stopped.

That's the kind of thing Stiles does best: he puts stuff together, and he doesn't let things go. Lydia can solve complex trigonometry without a pencil and calculate the perfect angle for a nine-pin strike with only her head and her fingertips. Stiles would need a pencil and room without distractions to do that trigonometry, and the feedback between his brain and his fingers is sketchy at the best of times, but he can put stuff together with the best of him.

Lydia Martin is vicious and ruthless and brilliant, and has a mind that can run rings around you without leaving her seat. Stiles is entranced. He feels like Tim Drake uncovering the connection between Bruce Wayne and Batman. This feels like _destiny_.

The only problem is that this makes Lydia Batman, and Batman does not traditionally _date_ Robin, as such. Robin's just the sidekick. Stiles is not so keen on being the sidekick.

He'd persisted with this model anyway mostly because it does suggest Lydia dating a douchebag like Jackson was basically like Bruce Wayne dating some bimbo – just part of her cover. It didn't have to mean she actually liked the guy. The only problem is that his theory doesn't so much account for a world where one of the reasons why she pretends to be dumb around Jackson is because she _likes_ being with him.

It'd be easier to hate Jackson properly if he didn't have to deal with the idea Lydia must see _something_ in the guy, or if Stiles could ever fully convince himself he has no idea what that something is. Just like it'd be easier to hate Derek properly if he'd never had to see the look in his eyes when Stiles dragged Erica out of the jeep, still seizing after the whole drive between the school and the hideout; if he didn't have to remember Derek's awful habit of going direct from murdering basketballs or bouncing his head off the steering wheel to yelling _Stiles, run_ , and putting himself between the human and the danger just in time to get his own ass soundly kicked trying to play the hero. But that's kind of beside the point.

The point _is_ that it's done, it's over, and Stiles doesn't even get to have that glorious rush of 'maybe' when he sees Lydia anymore. She's just as gorgeous and just as brilliant as she ever was, but not even the adorably-unpopular-outcast-hero of the feel-good teen-movie of the year would have a hope of peeling her away from Jackson now, and Stiles' heart and gut know it.

So Stiles isn't actually the romantic he thought he was. Not exactly the most world-shaking revelation he's had this year. It's weirder, because it's not like Lydia's been supplanted in his affections or anything – not that Lydia wouldn't be a hell of hard act to follow – but the point is, Stiles has moved on. Really.

Mind you, conflicted as he may be on the Robin role, he never has stopped putting things together. Like the fact his best friend got bitten by a werewolf. Or the fact his best friend's missing phone might just be the crucial clue they needed to track down a certain other werewolf of their acquaintance. He'd be more proud of that one if he got to use it in other circumstances though.

Speaking of which, exactly when did he become the go-to guy for angry disenfranchised werewolves looking to find Derek Hale in a hurry?

"It doesn't matter why, I just need you to take me to him!" growls Jackson. His growl has got a lot growlier of late.

Stiles declines to be intimidated. He leans against the doorway and folds his arms. "Still not really covering why I should drop what I'm doing and help you."

"It's important," says Jackson, like that's a better argument.

"Like someone's-going-to-die-important?" If Stiles gets past his knee-jerk reaction to Jackson turning up on his doorstep to bark demands after dark, the dude does have this spooked and shifty-eyed look about him that makes imminent danger theory seem not so unlikely. Particularly given everything else that goes down in Beacon Hills these days.

"Like _werewolf-stuff_ important," Jackson growls.

"Is this about your time-of-the-month issues?" Considering that the next full moon's the day after tomorrow, that seems more than probable. "Is there a reason you're not going to Scott or Isaac with this?" Not that Stiles is really going to discourage Jackson if he's determined to put himself through the ordeal of going to _Derek_ for advice of all sources, but Jeez, _manners_! "Either of them could point you to Derek, you know. Isaac's living with the guy. He's probably still lurking the old train depot anyway."

Jackson grinds his teeth. "Look, Stilinski, can you help me find him or not?"

Stiles wants to tell him to take a hike, but the odds that leaving Jackson to find Derek on his own _won't_ somehow end in murder and mayhem aren't quite so comfortable he can get them past his conscience. "Alright, fine, I'll take you. Did you bring the Porsche?"

Jackson did not bring the Porsche. All evidence suggests he walked all the way here. Stiles throws his hands up in the air and goes to find his keys.

* * *

Derek has clearly heard them pull up outside, because he's waiting for them when they step into the gloom of the old station. There's no sign of Erica or Boyd, or (thank god for small mercies) Peter, but Isaac is lounging in the doorway of the old train carriage behind Derek, with one of those studious looks of casual disinterest that more or less promises he's ready to leap forward and rip someone's throat out a moment's warning. Going by Derek's expression, he's not ready to rule that out either.

Stiles would roll his eyes at all the posturing, except that if anyone deserves it, it's probably Jackson, and it's pretty clearly Jackson who's got Derek's attention. Stiles apparently doesn't rank more than a quick glance on entering. Not that he's offended or anything (much).

"Jackson," says Derek, lest there be any doubt on this front.

Jackson swallows visibly. "I want to join your pack." He actually looks like he wants to be anywhere but here, doing anything but this, but he still says it, and from the look of things, Derek was expecting that answer roughly as much as Stiles had been.

Derek raises his eyebrows. "You? I thought you gave me your answer on that months ago."

"That was _before_ I knew what..." says Jackson, before trailing off into perhaps the single most telling silence Stiles has ever heard from the guy. Jackson shakes himself and tries a different tack. "Lydia translated the rest of the bestiary. It said a kanima is like a werewolf – its power waxes with the cycles of the moon. And a wolf becomes a kanima when it doesn't have a pack. So I need a pack."

At least he doesn't actually follow that with, _and you're the only alpha in town, so you're basically my only option_ , though it's pretty well implied. Having read those same pages more than a few times over himself, Stiles isn't sure that having a pack is precisely the decider – though it's not that much of a stretch to say it's some sort of risk factor, maybe. Given the stakes involved maybe Jackson's actually got a point, however badly he's making it.

Derek looks intrigued, though also like he maybe thinks a little grovelling wouldn't hurt Jackson's case either. "I thought Lydia was filling that role in your life these days."

"Lydia's _human_ ," says Jackson. Stiles is pretty sure the jury's actually still out on that one, but the way Jackson says it, it sounds more like he's saying Lydia's stuck with being squishy and fragile while shacking up with a hell-lizard, so maybe he has a point there too. "We don't know if what she did fixed me for good. We don't know what's going to happen to me next time the moon is full. If there's even one chance in a thousand that having a pack – a real, _werewolf_ pack – is what keeps me from turning into _that_ again, then I need a pack."

Jackson swallows again. Looks away, nervous, as he says, "I've been having dreams. Nightmares, where it starts all over again. Where..." He makes an angry noise. "If all it might take is for some other sick freak who thinks he has some kind of right to decide who lives and dies to walk into this town, to walk up to me and take over – I need someone watching my back. I need not to be dealing with that alone."

Because Stiles is watching Jackson, he misses the point where Derek's expression changes. It's not even that it softens, really – the fences are still there, they've just moved somehow, or are pointed in a different direction. He takes a step toward Jackson, coming close enough that he could reach out and put an arm on his shoulder, if he wanted to.

"You won't be," Derek tells Jackson. "It was my bite that turned you. You have a place in this pack as long as you respect what that means."

"That you're my alpha?" says Jackson, sounding unsure.

"That membership isn't a card you pull out of your back pocket when you need an easy out. A pack is your _pack_ ," says Derek, which looks pretty redundant on paper, though with Derek's intonation, the second 'pack' sounds just a bit like 'family'.

It's kind of sweet, actually. Or might be if you didn't know the guys involved.

Stiles thinks, _Well that figures. Not enough that the asshole gets Lydia without even trying, now he gets Derek too. Fucking typical._

Then he thinks, _Wait... what?_

* * *

So that maybe merits a bit of examination. Well, it's not like Stiles was counting on getting any homework done tonight anyway.

* * *

Stiles doesn't really see Scott until lunch the next day. Scott has a mouthful of mashed potato on his fork and a half-eaten lunch tray in front of him when Stiles dumps his own lunch tray on the table, slides into the seat opposite and says, "So, you remember that conversation we had about me being maybe-hypothetically a-little-bit _bi_?"

Scott swallows in only a little bit of a hurry. "Yeah?"

"Well," says Stiles, "maybe not so hypothetical anymore."

"Okay," says Scott. Then, "so... there's a guy? Did something happen?"

Sad to say that even in Scott's imagination Stiles' romantic prospects outstrip reality by a thousand fold. "I wish. But – yeah. So there's a guy."

"Someone I know?" asks Scott.

"Yeaaaah," says Stiles, slowly. "See, that's basically the whole problem. It's _Derek_."

Scott coughs a large hunk of meatloaf back onto his plate. He looks at Stiles like he's grown a second head. " _Derek_ -Derek?"

"Do _you_ know any other Dereks? Don't answer that. _Yes_ , it's Derek. Look, this snuck up on me, okay? Like, the momentI start to give up on Lydia, _bang_ , there it is! Apparently my type is hot, scary and unobtainable. I don't even _know_."

Scott seems to find this about as digestible as the cafeteria meatloaf. "You think Derek's hot?"

"Which one of us is maybe-bi here, huh? Derek is..." Stiles makes an expressive gesture. " _Way_ up there, okay. When he stops scowling at everyone for a few seconds. Maybe even when he is scowling, sometimes. It's... physicality, really not the issue here, c'mon."

Scott frowns, like maybe his best friend is making some terrible choices on the crush-rebound and needs an intervention. Stiles couldn't honestly say he's necessarily wrong. "Are you going to say something to him?" asks Scott.

" _Jesus_ , no! Of course not! That's what I need you for!"

"You want _me_ to tell him?"

" _No_ , I need you to find out for me if he's even into guys! Like, has he ever said anything? Mentioned a past boyfriend? A past girlfriend, even! It would be something to start from!"

Scott shifts in his seat. "Derek doesn't really talk about that stuff." In fact, Scott looks rather like he'd happily never talk about 'that stuff' with Derek at all – even if they're still both in this town at the age of eighty.

Stiles magnanimously opts to ignore Scott's lacking team spirit. "See, that's the whole problem! Because if he's _not_ , then I've got less chance with him than I've got with Lydia, and maybe I can head this whole stupid crush thing off at the pass! No awkward conversations or even more miserable rejections necessary. I can just move on."

"And what if he is?" asks Scott, frowning. "Are you going to tell him then?"

The very idea makes Stiles' stomach do a little floaty jump. He is in _so_ much trouble. "Well... _I_ don't know. I can burn that bridge when I get to it."

"Can't you ask Erica or Isaac? They're way closer to Derek than I am. And stuff with Derek right now is still kinda... awkward, y'know?"

The whole now-I'm-pack-now-I'm-not thing will do that to a relationship. At last check, it had largely devolved into passive-aggressive barbs on both sides, though what with the rumour of the Alpha Pack at large and Peter still skulking around, Scott and Derek had at least both had to admit that, in theory, some sort of united front would be a good place to start from. The enemy of my enemy and the devil you know, and all that.

"You still see him more than _I_ do! I thought you guys were trying to sort that out!"

"Well..." says Scott.

"Scott, please, I can't ask anyone else in his pack directly – they'll _know_! Just get me something here, I'm begging you."

Scott continues frowning, but he doesn't actually say no, which is as good as a yes in Stiles' books.

He should really have realised then just how badly it could go wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> To put everyone out of (some of) their misery regarding where this would have gone: naturally, when Scott starts asking Derek awkward questions about his past love-life, what he ends up discovering isn't some secret past-boyfriend, but about Kate Argent. Really, Derek would be much _less_ furious about the whole incident when Stiles cracks and owns up to the fact that the real reason he'd had Scott poke around the subject wasn't that either of them had guessed about Kate, but because Stiles was kinda hoping maybe he leant the other way. Which Derek is about as prepared for as Stiles had been for any of this. Presumably, some combination of the obligatory warning-you-away-because-this-is-a-bad-idea and/or snogging would eventually ensue, perhaps not necessarily in that order.
> 
> I have not more than the faintest idea how I'd actually have got this thing that far, mind you. But it seemed like an idea that might have been fun to play with, had I only finished that _other_ sterek-epic of mine some months sooner.


End file.
